. We were also invited into a local Sikkimese family's home to meet their their 99-year-old grandmother and drink some warm Chang (a local, mildly alcoholic brew made from pounded and fermented millet).The trek was very rewarding. We traveled along ancient routes used by sherpas to move from village to village and to herd their yaks from one pasture to another. Early one morning, as I watched the sunrise, I happened to see a modern sherpa family with small children, the youngest being carried, as they quietly moved through our camp, likely heading to one of the main villages. Much of the trails passed through a huge rhododendron sanctuary - a protected habitat for red pandas (unfortunately I didn't get to see any in the wild...however, I did see a few at the Zoo in Darjeeling with Susan a week later!). The trails were littered with signs of recent movement by yak and cow herds. This practice is now considered illegal in the santuary, however, it is something which the semi-nomadic sherpas seem reluctant to abandon.
Many of the rhododendron trees had already bloomed but, as we reached higher altitudes, we entered into brightly-coloured forests of pink and red. Surprisingly, as we were climbing the steep slopes of one such forest, we were caught in a sudden storm of chick-pea-sized hail stones! It was quite a surreal experience.
Most of our camps were at 10 000 feet or higher (gone from my memory were the hot, Indian, nights) and on the second last day we reached a peak that was 12800 feet high. Unfortunately, the clouds obscured Everest, so my promised "majestic view" was not fulfilled. That is not to say, however, that breathtaking views were in short supply. I saw Kangchenzonga peak from many different angles, cast in many different lights. I often found myself sitting for what seemed like hours, watching the mists roll silently through the plunging mountain valleys.
The last day was by far the most challenging, and not because of the terrain. I hurt my foot playing a game of high-altitude volleyball at our second last camp, the morning we were to descend 4000 feet and hundreds of rocky steps!
On the morning of the 7th day, I left the trekking group in one of the crowded Tata Sumos (an Indian jeep). This early departure was not because of the injured foot. Susan was patiently waiting in Darjeeling and my Sikkim permit was due to expire. The rest of the group would continue the trek for two more days, passing through the villages that I only glanced at as the packed vehicle honked and swerved its way through their pot-holed streets. I had really gotten to know Binod, Dave A, and the six high school/college students from nearby villages who had joined us on our trek. I had learned some Nepali and Binod had invited me to his house (an offer I had to reluctantly refuse due to my pre-planned schedule). It was a sad goodbye. However, I knew that a loving Susan and a hot shower awaited me in Darjeeling - a thought that kept me occupied as I descended and climbed over bumpy mountain roads, jostling shoulders with my sweaty jeep companions.
